190
THE SILENT HOUSE.
Though his spirit has been lifted To a higher, purer scene,It must surely light the pathway Where his living feet have been.
Bending softly down the silence From his home of bliss above,Drawn to earthward by the yearning Of a mother's deathless love.
Like the gentle dews of heaven Falling on some broken flower,Lifting up the drooping petals, With an unseen thrilling power.
I have wept for little children Dying in their tender years,I have bathed their little coffins In a flood of a bitter tears.
And my heart bleeds for the mother Who has seen the cold earth piledHigh above the icy bosom Of her own and only child.
